


Choirgirl Finale: Black Dove

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Series: The Choirgirl Set [9]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Dark, F/M, M/M, Series, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 20:43:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5716420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love and hate are not things to be toyed with. Things don't end very well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choirgirl Finale: Black Dove

**Author's Note:**

> “Okay. A long time ago, long before the world you know was a speck in space, when the world you know was a speck in space, when everything was young, Death and Dream went walking…” –Neil Gaiman

“Welcome home, Mulder,” Scully says in that best evil voice of hers,

and sweet Jesus, I know it’s not going to end well. But how could I  
ever imagine this one was going to end well?

When I first took that drink in that bar all those months ago and said  
to myself, Alex, you’re gonna have that man’s ass, come hell or high  
water, I had to know that this would be the outcome, because let’s face  
it, this world ain’t run by Disney and there’s no such thing as a happy  
ending here.

So what do we got? We got the redheaded bitch in denial, we got the  
gorgeous hunk in denial, and then we got me, standing here with a gun  
in my hand and a gun aimed square at my nuts. At least I’m not in  
denial.

“Put those guns down!” Mulder cries, but I’m not sure at whom.

“You first,” Scully and I say in unison to each other. “Are you  
kidding? No!”

“Fucking bitch,” I growl at her. “It’s your fault the guns are out. I  
just wanted to talk.”

“Go to hell, Krycek,” she replies, her eyes steely with fury. “Talk all  
you want. I’ve got the gun and it’s not going anywhere!”

Mulder looks extremely distressed by this turn of events. But hell, the  
tedious son of a bitch brought it all upon himself. He toyed with two  
dangerous, intense people, hoarded all of their love and hatred just  
for himself, and forgot the oldest formula: two men, one woman,  
trouble.

“Fine, fine, fine, be that way, Scul-leee,” I say, drawing her name out  
obscenely. “Perhaps we could all sit down and aim guns at each other?  
It’s a lot more civilized, and we are your guests, after all.”

“Yeah, your breaking and entering makes me your hostess,” she replies,  
narrowing her eyes. “That makes about as much sense as anything. So  
let’s sit down.”

“On three?”

“Yeah.”

“One–” I say.

“Two–” she says.

“Three–” we say together, slowly sitting down in the nearest chairs.  
Our guns are still aimed towards vital body parts, but this is much  
better. Mulder, after a long sigh, sits down in between us.

“You’re both behaving childishly, and I should call the police,” he  
finally manages to say.

“Fuck you, Mulder,” Scully says. I raise an eyebrow. It’s actually  
quite an honor to see Prissy Miss Pissy with all of her manners thrown  
out the window. She’s actually rather hot like this, down to that  
motherfucking enormous gun which is now aimed at my head and not my  
balls. “Why don’t you shut up?”

“Amen,” I say.

“Krycek, fuck off,” she replies. “I think it’s time we all had a nice  
long conversation, don’t you? A grown-up, adult conversation where we  
resolve this entire tragic saga and get over our bad-ass gun-toting  
selves.”

“So we start by putting the nines up?” I ask. “That’s adult, Scully.”

She glares at me. “You are a big smart-ass, Mr. Krycek. But I suppose  
that in the interests of diplomacy, I can put away my gun if you can  
put away yours. Shall we?”

“I’m always interested in the interests of diplomacy,” I say.

“Okay,” she says. Slowly, eyes fastened on each other, we place the  
guns on the floor next to us, and move back to our seats. Mulder sits  
there dumbfounded. But this isn’t his show. He’s made all of his  
choices, really. No matter whether it’s me or Scully he ends up with,  
he won’t be completely happy. He thinks too much about what he’s  
missed. “So, do we really have something to talk about?”

“Perhaps we can discuss my earlier offer.”

“I am not sex therapy.”

“No, I think you’re sexual dysfunction in a bottle.”

“If all we’re going to do is exchange insults, I’ll give you ten  
minutes before I call the cops on you for breaking and entering and you  
can get the hell out of my life and take him with you,” Scully says.  
“All right?”

“You can’t expect me to believe you want that,” I say, grinning. “You  
know you want me to leave him here so that you can give him the chewing  
out of his life and then have extraordinary make-up sex while I go and  
rot in hell. Tell me that it’s not in your head.”

Mulder sits there, mouth hanging open like a rickety gate. Scully’s  
eyes are flinty and ice-cold. She stares at me for so long I start to  
shift uncomfortably. What if I’m wrong? What if Scully wants to break  
up definitively with Mulder, exchange a few more pleasant barbs with me  
and then move on with her life?

Her eyes suddenly move away from me, to Mulder. And when I heard her  
speak, the sound is strangled and painful.

“Do you know how much I hate you when I wake up in the morning?” she  
whispers, her voice tinged in wistfulness and fury. “You could never  
just say what you wanted or needed. You could never just– God, I don’t  
know. But after all of this time hating Krycek or the smoking men, I  
realize that what really trashed my life was–”

Long pause. “YOU!” she snaps suddenly. “Why was it you, Mulder?”

“Scully, I’m sorry,” Mulder says, head bowed in misery.

“That and a dollar will get me a Snickers,” she replies. “You’re sorry.  
You’re terribly, terribly sorry, aren’t you? You’re sorry I got  
abducted because of YOU. You’re sorry I lost my sister because of YOU.  
You’re sorry about the cancer. You’re sorry about the fact that the  
only child I had was a freak of nature, and now I’m sure you’re sorry  
you left me to be with Krycek because you were having a midlife crisis  
or an ethical moment or whatever it was! Well, sorry sorry sorry, I  
don’t want to hear it anymore! What good is your sorry?”

She’s out of her chair now, and she stalks over to Mulder, pulling his  
head up to look at her. I sit there, stunned at the incredible violence  
of this breakdown or crackup or whatever you want to call this sudden  
moment of passion.

Mulder is trying to look away from her, but Scully is holding tight,  
digging her nails into his skin, forcing him to look at her, directly,  
with no more illusions.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” he says.

“It means that you’re going to have to accept what you’ve done to me!  
Twenty-five years ago, your sister was kidnapped. I’m going to tell you  
the secret no one else would: it wasn’t your fault! Nothing you could  
have said or done would have saved Samantha.”

Something about that jerks him out of self-pity. “And it’s so different  
with you? I could have stopped Duane Barry? I could have stopped the  
government from taking you? I could have stopped Cardinale? Am I God?  
Do I really have so much power over you?”

A dry sob heaves through Scully’s body. “Fucking idiot,” she whispers.

“What do you think? Do you think I was really so spineless I couldn’t  
have asked for a transfer? Do you think it never crossed my mind? Don’t  
you think I could have up and quit the FBI after the abduction and just  
left? You kept me there, God damn you! I couldn’t let them hurt you! I  
couldn’t let you crumble because I loved you, dammit! I loved you with  
everything I had in me, but you were too high and too noble and you  
ended up using me ’til I was gone–”

She pulls away from him. “You’re worse than cancer,” she says. “You’re  
a disease of the soul. And this is what you’ve left me.”

I see her face as she settles on the chair and stares at me. It’s  
almost stunned, almost despairing, but behind all of that, I think  
she’s really and truly snapped. It’s going to end badly, and I don’t  
know whose reflexes are quicker. Can I make this stop? I can try, at  
least.

“Mulder,” I say, standing up. “Let’s go. I know I’m not wanted and you  
seem to be persona non grata, as well.”

“No,” Mulder says. “Scully, please, let me make it up to you. Please  
let me do something–”

“There’s nothing you can do,” she says sadly. “When I made you leave, I  
thought maybe that would work, you know? I thought I had a little of  
myself free from you. But you still haunt my dreams. I thought I didn’t  
love you enough. But the truth is I loved you too much, Mulder. So much  
that it’s killing me.”

I have to get to my gun. I have to get to her. Because I feel it, I  
feel that desperation pushing her over the final edge. Self-loathing,  
self-reflection, humiliation, and sheer bloody rage mixed in with an  
unexpected visit are about to create a small, redheaded explosion  
across this apartment. If I’d only waited until tomorrow. Instead, I  
tossed the spark on the powderkeg.

“Scully, I–”

“What could you do for me, really? You could try to crucify the  
bastards, but you always tried and you’ve never quite done anything.  
You could swear to treat me right and be the perfect man, but that  
would be like asking for your castration. You could tell me you’re  
sorry until the heavens went crashing into the sea, but in the morning,  
I would still wake up and nothing would be better.”

He stares at her, the heaviness of the silence making me sick to my  
stomach. I still want to get out of here, do something before whatever  
dramatic conclusion’s coming finally makes its way into the room.

“You’re right,” he says. “So what can I do for you?”

Gun gun gun, my brain shrieks at me, red alert! I gotta keep her away  
from the gun before she says “You can die for me, Mulder–” and all of  
my instincts are dead on the money this time because she’s moving right  
for it and my adrenaline starts pumping and I’m leaping across the room  
before she can touch it, knocking us flat on the ground while Mulder  
pulls out his weapon and aims it at us, staring at me.

“Krycek–”

“What about your mom?” I ask Scully, pinning her flat. “What on earth  
were you thinking? Do you really want to waste every last bit of your  
life on him?”

She stares at me, and the tears she’s been too goddamn proud to cry for  
herself suddenly pour out, and she’s holding on to me tight, crying  
herself out. Mulder stares at me.

“I think I–”

“Stay right here, Mulder,” I reply, holding onto Scully the best that I  
can. “Call her mother. Make some tea, if you can. You want to do  
something for Scully? And for me? Do something useful and pretend that  
you’re not upset or astounded.”

“Alex–”

“Get your arrogant ass in gear. You love her, don’t you? You love me,  
don’t you? Well, show love to someone other than yourself for once!”

That sends Mulder into action and out of my sight. I look down at  
Scully, who’s still crying. “Hey,” I say. “That makes your face swell  
up.”

“I still hate you,” she manages to say. “And you overreacted, you  
know.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say. “I know. But at least you’re not in denial  
anymore. Can you sit up?”

“Never expected you to be the hero,” she says, slowly sitting up in my  
arms. She’s still crying, but it’s tears running down her cheeks, not  
active sobbing.

“I just don’t like cleaning up blood,” I reply, deadpan. She stares at  
me and brushes away some of the moisture on her face. God, Scully’s  
hideous when she cries.

“So what now?” she asks. “We all live happily ever after now?”

“Scully, there’s a few things I know about life. One is that happily  
ever after does not exist,” I say. “But one of the other things is that  
the beginning is always the ending of the thing prior. And you know–”

“We’ve reached a beginning?” she quips. “Very deep.”

“Well, I think that we’ve reached an ending, so why not a new  
beginning?” I ask her.

She doesn’t have a quick answer for me, and so we sit there in the  
silence, holding each other. I think that we’re listening for something  
that will give us the right answer on how to live here between death  
and dream, in a world where no ending is permanently happy.

 

 


End file.
